Dire Straights
by Abstract Addy
Summary: Violence and Vampires! Hilarity, Horror, and Whore-ibbleness abound in the tale of ghoul Jackson Hill and his Malkavian regnant Abstract Addy...
1. Prologue

A/N: So, the first few chapters of this are kinda short and serious, but they get longer and funnier (I hope) In the later chapters… This Is a prequel to Los Angeles By Night, and Is also V:tM fic, using the same rules (and some stuff from New WoD too)… I do not own Sebastian LaCroix, any of the clans, or the city of Los Angeles… Please don't sue me! I love you too much!

PROLOGUE

"They will be looking for me," she said, her vocal chords straining to speak against all the screaming that had rendered them so sore.

There was a silence so sickeningly terrifying to her that she actually stopped moving all together, wondering if her captor would respond.

"They won't find you," he said.

He disappeared into the shadows, and she writhed in her bonds, her naked body cut and bleeding. She hadn't fed in days - there was no hope of healing her wounds now. But was that her captor's intent? She knew from his very presence that he was another predator, Kindred. But he was going to leave her here, starving for blood, disoriented, god knows where under ground.

"Does your worm-ridden mind know who I am?!" she screamed hoarsely, her vocal chords like wet sandpaper.

Silence answered her.

"I'm a Primogen, damn it! Once the Prince understands I'm gone-" her voice trailed off into the darkness hopelessly. Prince LaCroix would be overjoyed by her absence. Her Final Death wouldn't make the slightest ripple in the local politics.

Besides, her captor was gone. Her screams would be heard by no one.


	2. Desperate Measures

PART THE FIRST

Desperate Measures

Jack rapped his fingers nervously on the counter. It had been three days, and he was getting worried. Very worried.

"She said she was going out to hunt. She's never gone for more than two nights at a time without telling me." he said, his ebony hair falling over his angular, youthful face. Adam shook his head.

"It's only three days, Jack. You're very dependent on your domitor - have you thought about the possibility that she just wanted some time alone?"

Jack slammed his fist on the table.

"She never wants time alone. And she _never_ is gone for more than two days!" he emphasized this by holding up two fingers. "I know I'm just a ghoul, but I think it's time to tell the Prince. Send out Cammy agents on a search party. I can feel it - there's something really wrong. She's not okay."

Adam shook his head, his wild ash-brown hair swaying with the movement. The werewolf was physically and emotionally much older than Jack; he looked like he was in his mid to late twenties. In truth, he had been alive for much longer.

Jack looked and was about seventeen, was underweight and only about 5'7. Adam was a much more imposing figure.

"She's one of the last fifth generation vampires left, Jack. I'm sure she can handle herself."

"Technically fourth generation," added Nico darkly, his Italian accent decorating his words. "Since she diablerized her sire."

"She didn't!" spat Jack in defense. "That's just a pack of lies spread by Prince LaCroix to try to poison Los Angeles against her! Anyways, the Prince has an obligation to help her. She is the Malkavian Primogen, after all."

Nico shrugged. "It doesn't matter. Jack may have a point - his blood gives him a sympathetic connection to his domitor that we don't have with ours. If he's sensing that Abstract Addy's in trouble, there probably _is_ some grounding to it."

Adam narrowed his eyes.

"I'm not sure Prince LaCroix would be particularly thrilled hearing the news from you, Jack, seeing as how he and Abstract Addy-"

"Well, he can just get the fuck over his little broken heart, because she's a Primogen in his city, and he has an obligation to her safety!" interrupted Jack excitedly. "As a registered Kindred of Los Angeles, clan royalty, AND because she's an elder. So he has to ensure her well-being."

"Do what you will," said Adam, irritated that he had been cut off. "Don't say I didn't warn you that he won't take it well."

Jack ran awkwardly into the Ventrue tower, the security guard at the desk giving him a strange look. Here was a shirtless boy in camouflage cargo pants and over-sized converse just run into the epitome of a corporate elite sky-scraper.

"I need to see LaCroix right away!" shouted Jack, slightly nervous around the badge. As a black market dealer, he was always uneasy around cops of any kind.

"Um, I'm afraid that I'll have to identify-"

"This is URGENT!" he said, his face flush with pink. "One of his associates is in trouble!"

"Oh, but..." stumbled the officer, loath to trust the words of this grunge kid and possibly lose his job. Still, the look in the boy's deep brown eyes was one of desperation. "All right. I'll open up the elevator for you." he pressed a button on his desk, mumbling, "Mr. LaCroix won't like this one bit..."

Jack jogged to the elevator on the other end of the lobby, stepping inside and pressing the PH button for the penthouse. He waited impatiently while the express cable took him up to the twentieth floor of the building. When the elevator opened, he walked timidly into yet another lobby ending in two ornate double doors. He pushed them open cautiously, peeking his head into the Prince's private quarters.

He was awed.

The entire back wall of the penthouse was a gold-trimmed window that overlooked the more pleasing side of Downtown, great silk curtains tied off to the side majestically. Million dollar paintings lined the creme coloured walls, and a tastefully upholstered sofa sat neatly on one side. There was a desk in front of the window, and a large, cushy office chair in which the prince sat, filling out countless and indistinguishable forms.

It was as if he had hired a Toreador to do the decorating in a Versailles Palace theme, while still maintaining the CEO look.

Prince LaCroix looked up with an irked expression, one that changed to menacing at the sight of Jack. Though the distance between them was great (for the penthouse was quite grandiosely spacious), Jack could still feel the intensity of the Prince's glare.

"What are you doing here, kine?" he spat, a European accent colouring his speech. Jack scurried to the desk, fidgeting with his hands.

"Er... It's about Abstract Addy, Prince LaCroix." he mumbled timidly, the very presence of the arrogant Ventrue unsettling him. His expression changed from spiteful to dark.

"She's in trouble, and I don't know where she is. We... I need to find her. But I-"

"What makes you think that a lowly ghoul such as yourself has the right to demand service from the Prince of the city?" said LaCroix evenly. Jack's eyes seemed to harden slightly.

"She is your trusted advisor and is under your protection, as much as you may despise her," said Jack, maybe a little too boldly. "She's hurt. She's frightened. I can feel it. She needs your help."

Prince LaCroix stared at him, slightly shocked that the ghoul had been so outspoken. But he slowly smiled a cruel, cutting smile that made Jack cringe.

"So the capricious little Lunatic has finally gotten herself into a position from which she can't squirm out of," he said, a sadistic tone slithering through his words. "It's about time, now."

"You can't just leave her to die!" implored Jack desperately, falling to his knees. "Please, help me rally a search party. Some kind of force. I'd do anything, Prince LaCroix. I'd do anything to have her back."

Prince LaCroix smiled at this.

"Anything?" he asked, amusement in his cold, grey eyes. Jack nodded vigorously.

"Absolutely anything! Just bring her back."

Prince LaCroix sat back in his chair, seemingly deep in thought. He brought his pen to his lips contemplatively, his position shifting slightly.

"Serve me as you serve her, until I see it fit that you no longer have to do so." he said finally, a smirk on his face. Jack grinned, nodding madly.

"Of course, Prince LaCroix!" he said enthusiastically, starting to rise. The Prince frowned, motioning for him to stay on his knees.

"Swear your fealty to me, kine," he said impatiently. Jack made an uncomprehending face.

"Huh?"

"I said, you must swear fealty to me, as my servant, I as your lord."

Jack raised an eyebrow. _These old corpses and their weird-ass traditions,_ he thought dismissively, as he nodded again.

"Uh, okay. I swear fealty to you."

Prince LaCroix shook his head angrily.

"Recite the oath, simpleton," he snarled. Jack winced, raising his shoulders. The Prince rolled his eyes. "I, Jackson Hill, hereby swear my service, loyalty, and person to my lord, Prince Sebastian LaCroix..." he prompted in a condescending tone.

"I, Jackson Hill, hereby swear my service, loyalty, and person to my lord, Prince Sebastian LaCroix..." repeated Jack self-consciously.

"In accordance with the Camarilla and all that it embodies..." continued LaCroix.

Jack sighed. As an Anarch, he strongly disagreed with most of the Camarilla's policies. "... In accordance with the Camarilla and all that it embodies..."

"For as long as my lord requires. I will serve him without question, without doubt, and with all of the spirit and vehemence that I serve my domitor."

Jack hesitated, but the incensed expression on the Prince's face urged him to finish. "... For as long as my lord requires. I will serve him without question, without doubt, and with all of the spirit and vehemence that I serve my domitor."

"This I swear upon my life, and upon my death."

"This I swear upon my life, and upon my death." said Jack, with a bitter finality. He detested the Prince with all his heart, as he loved his domitor, but if he was to ever see her again, he would need to do what the pompous ass asked of him.

Prince LaCroix nodded, satisfied. "Excellent. I will call my most trusted Kindred onto the search. You are now mine."

________________________________________________________________

A/N: So THAT'S done, then… LaCroix is a prick, as always, and Jack's got way too much adrenaline pumping through that underfed body of his… Next up is some nasty Kindred drama! Not really, but kind of… Oh, well. Enjoy!


	3. Undesirable Allies

PART THE SECOND

Undesirable Allies

Jack had been sitting on the Prince's exquisitely comfortable sofa for twenty minutes while he waited agonizingly for his associates to arrive. He started when the door opened, jumping to his feet.

The first to enter was the Prince's childe and Ventrue Primogen, Elias Cutwell. He was outfitted in a dark blue suit and a black tie, his brown hair combed neatly and professionally out of his sapphire eyes. He carried himself with a self-important air, not unlike the Prince himself. Jack began to wonder if all Ventrue acted like that.

The second made Jack's jaw almost hit the floor, and he swore that he had just died and gone to heaven. She strode in majestically, and the whole world seemed to de-saturate around her. Jack recognized her instantly as Marie Caldetûla, the Toreador Regent. Her crimson hair fell in ringlets around her bare shoulders, and her ice-blue eyes scanned the room with a proud malice. Her face was sharply beautiful - her eyelashes looked as if they could lacerate skin with a blink. She approached the center of the room with a calculated grace, her striking beauty making Elias actually avert his gaze to avoid falling prey to her presence.

The next was a small, quick-looking man in a red trench-coat. His blonde hair seemed windswept, and a pair of half-moon glasses rested dutifully below his amber eyes. He was Anton, the Tremere Primogen.

Lastly was the Nosferatu Primogen, a revolting, monstrous Kindred that had come to be known as George. His skin carried a greenish hue, and was covered in sores and cankers. All of his teeth were long and extremely sharp, and his ears were unevenly shaped and pointed. He was dressed in a white collared shirt, a black vest and slacks, and a red bow tie. He smiled mischievously.

"Tell me, Sebastian," said Marie with a cool anger, a light Romanian accent slipping into her voice. "What was _so_ important that you had to interrupt me, hmm?"

Elias shot her an odd look, but then turned away again. She was indeed much higher in station than the Prince was; an extremely influential and powerful Kindred simply happening to settle down in his city. To disrespect her could very well mean a slow and painful Final Death.

"Forgive me, your Majesty," said Prince LaCroix, bowing his head slightly. "A Primogen has gone missing. I was hoping that you could assist in the search for her." he asked in a polite tone. Marie considered this, narrowing her beautiful eyes.

"You ask of a favor from the Toreador Regent of the state, Sebastian," she said with a cruel smile. "What do I receive in return?"

Sebastian bit his lip.

"What do you desire?"

Marie laughed, her features lightening, yet still remaining aesthetically deadly. If looks could kill, and hers probably had, China would be a wasteland.

"Everything. But I suppose I could settle for something a little less encompassing."

George laughed. "She wants the world on a silver platter. A modest request, right, Anton?" Anton smirked.

"Nah, the world is too unattractive for her. I'm sure she'd be happy with Vincent's ashes in a jar, though."

Marie shot him a dark look at the mentioning of her Sire. Vincent had defected from the Camarilla decades ago, and became a Toreador antitribu Priscus in the Sabbot. He had been hunting for his runaway childe since.

"Let her speak for herself," said Elias in a commanding tone. "It is impolite to put words in the mouths of elders."

Marie glanced at him, her eyebrow raised.

"Thank you, Elias." she said quietly. "I want a service. And a promise." She looked the Prince in the eye with a fierce intensity. His face seemed to whiten slightly, but they came to a silent agreement, and he nodded.

"It... It's agreed, then." he said, folding his hands on the desk. "Her ghoul will accompany you on your efforts."

Jack looked up at the four vampires, feeling a little more than intimidated. He had been a ghoul for a month and a half now, and before that, he didn't believe in vampires, or anything of the sort. Now, he was going to be hanging around the city with a quartet of ancient, walking corpses, looking for the one who now owned him, body, heart, and soul.

"Is he a snack?" asked George lightheartedly. The jest in his voice did nothing to ease Jack.

The Prince narrowed his eyes. "He is the property of the Malkavian Primogen. I would advise against harming him in any way."

Jack glanced nervously at each of his new companions. He knew the clans well enough by now to know that the diversity of the group could prove to be an asset, but he was still nervous about being around any Kindred who were not his domitor.

"I... I have a s-source sympathy with Abstract Addy," he volunteered. "I can sort of... um... feel her."

For the first time, they all focused their eyes on him. He shrank slightly.

"At least he'll be useful for _something_," remarked Elias, his nose upturned slightly in that special Ventrue way. Anton's eyes narrowed slightly.

"And how might you have achieved that, kine?" he asked in a venomous tone.

"Er..." said Jack, feeling the sweat drip down his bare back. "We, uh, share a, uh, a special bond?" he tried, unconfidently. Marie laughed, her sweet voice like honey and razor blades.

"How precious!" she breathed (that is, if she had any breath), composing herself. "The little ghoul believes he's special."

Jack stiffened slightly, raising his chin. "She really does care about me!" he protested, if a bit weakly. "And I'd die for her."

George clapped his hands. "Well, then! Problem solved!"

Jack gave him a pained expression. He just couldn't win. He turned towards Prince LaCroix, bowing unevenly. "Thank you... My Lord."

A/N: Jack's going off to play action hero, like he's always wanted! Whee! But where there's an imprisoned child of Malkav, there's bound to be some REALLY bad juju…


	4. Bested and Buried

PART THE THIRD

Bested and Buried

She slumped forward, blood tears racing down her grimy cheeks. Her mismatched eyes stared out into the darkness, resigned to whatever fate her captor had in store for her. He approached, his footfalls resonating in the dank silence. She didn't have enough blood left to even power her weakest discipline.

" 'Abstract Addy'," he sneered. He was partly visible to her sensitive eyes now, his knotted and tangled hair pale and sickly. His eyes glowed red in the darkness, his body wrapped in torn cloth.

"Stay away from me, Gangrel!" she screamed, her captor's clan name tasting bitter on her tongue. "Keep away!"

He disregarded her complaints and continued to step closer, until he wrapped his sallow fingers around her throat and squeezed.

"Jet. Not that you're worthy of calling me by my name anywase, Lunatic. But if you wanted to know, the name's Jet. You can tell it to your damned progenitor. In Hell."

Abstract Addy tried to scream, but her vocal chords were restricted. If only she had more vitae in her! How she would break his mind, bend his brain around thoughts that would drive him mad beyond possibility... and watch him writhe on the ground before her, unable to handle the Dementation that had seeded itself within his conscious.

But she couldn't waste what little she had. She needed it to keep from frenzying.

He let go of her throat, and pulled away with a smile. He was all teeth, crooked and sharp. Like an animal.

"And you call yourself a Primogen. You disgust me. So weak." He kicked her in the ribs, cracking them. They made a wet sound.

Abstract Addy screamed, and she didn't stop until Jet slammed a hand over her mouth, a knife now creasing the skin on her throat.

"Shut up, bitch. You're getting on my nerves."

She bit deep into his hand, drawing his vampiric vitae out and into her mouth. He ripped his hand away, losing a chunk of skin in the process. Abstract Addy smiled, swallowing both his blood and flesh. She started to feel a little better already.

"YOU FUCKER!" screamed Jet, his knife slashing across the bridge of her nose and down her cheek. She winced, the wounds closing instantly and the blood dripping down her face. Anything she had taken from him had just been lost again. "Do that again and you can say hello to the fucking furnace!" his eyes were burning now. She felt a little stronger, a little more confident now that he had lost some of his control.

"You're wrong, _lick_," she sneered, the insult pouring readily from her mouth. "They _will_ find me, and when they do-"

He words died in a scream as the knife lodged itself into her gut.

"You'll be a pile of ash." he finished, growling between his teeth. He turned heel and stormed away, leaving Abstract Addy to gag from the pain as her skin tried to close itself over the intruding blade.

_______________________________________________________________________________________________________________

A/N: Oh, gee, violence! Yum… Next up: Jack likes to think he's really badass. Unfortunately, he's not.


	5. Bitter Sympathies

PART THE FOURTH

Bitter Sympathies

Jack fell to the ground, groaning. The four Kindred around him stepped back, startled by his sudden collapse.

"-guh..." sputtered Jack, as he clutched his stomach. "J-jesus Christ... it hurts so much..."

"What the hell just happened?" asked Anton suspiciously.

Elias's eyes widened. "Is something wrong?" he asked, hoping Jack would answer. Jack rolled to the side, vomiting on the pavement.

"Shiiiiiiiiit..." swore Jack, his voice breaking from the pain. "Sh-she's hurt..." He curled into himself and sputtered, puke-ridden saliva running lines over his lips. "And alone. So alone..."

Marie nudged him gingerly with her foot, avoiding the vomit with disgust. "Leech. Get up."

"I think he needs a few seconds to recover, ice cunt." said Anton evenly. This landed him a well-deserved slap across the face, her glassy nails cutting through the skin on her cheek. Elias turned away, not wanting to be involved. He kneeled by Jack, slightly repulsed by the rank smell of his stomach acid.

"Can you sense her location at all? Even a slight hunch of where she could be would help."

Jack coughed and sat up, wiping his mouth with his arm. "Under... under ground. Cold and damp, and she's restrained by something, I think." he shook his head, his eyes red and glassy. "That's the best I can do. It comes in feelings, not in coherent sentences."

Anton shrugged. "That's not much help. She could be anywhere."

"Not so, Anton," remarked Elias, rising to his feet. "How many damp underground places _are_ there in Los Angeles?"

There was a long silence, and Jack looked up at the four, his eyes wide. "The cemetery."

They looked at him with raised eyebrows.

"There's an underground passage that runs straight through the bottom of the Los Angeles cemetery - it used to be used for smuggling."

"Used to?" asked George.

"Until it got taken over by a coterie of vampires. People died, all that jazz. Now even the vampires don't use it anymore." explained Jack.

"Something worse moved in?" prompted George. Jack shrugged.

"I have no idea. It just cleared out for no apparent reason a year back."

Elias shot a sidelong glance at George, who shrugged in return. Marie nodded. "Fine. Let us go to this passage of yours."

"I wouldn't use the main entrance, just in case it's guarded. There are several side passages we can get into, as long as we're careful-"

"How do you know about this?" asked Anton, suspicion in his voice. Jack smiled.

"I wasn't exactly an angel before I met A."

And he left it at that.

________________________________________________________________

A/N: Poor Jack… Getting stuck with THESE losers… The things ghouls do for their bloody rewards… Next up: Obscure references to Shock Rock bands and more violence! YAY!


	6. Stitch in Time

PART THE FIFTH

Stitch in Time

"Stitch to stop the madness... stitch to stop the hate... stitch in time but now it's just too late..."

"Shut the fuck up!" screamed Jet, his rocketing against Abstract Addy's grimy cheek.

"Oh, how low? You're ship is sinking. Oh, how low? You're dragging me down-"

Claws ripped through her face, and Jet pulled back his hand, his eyes wide with fury. She gasped, her skin cut into ribbons and bleeding onto the cavern floor. Her pupils contracted, and she lifted her head up, as if sensing something the Gangrel could not.

And she screamed.

Jet smashed his teeth against hers, shutting her up with a violently painful kiss. His fangs slid through her lips, tearing them, and he gnawed at her flesh. When he finally broke away, she slumped limply back.

"Fucking Lunatic!" Jet roared. The Beast was raging in him now, pushing him to the brink of frenzy. How he wanted to rip her to shreds and bury his face among her intestines, smell her gore and lick his hands...

His head swung around as he sniffed the air. They were no longer alone.

Jack crumpled to the floor, sniffing and holding his face. "W-we're c-c-close," he sputtered. "I c-c-can f-feel her inssssside m-me..."

"Fucking basket case," hissed Anton.

"How close? Which direction is she in?" asked Elias, worried. The other three vampires stared at him in disbelief.

He gave them critical glances. Was he the only one who cared for the Primogen's safety?

Jack curled deeper into himself, not wanting to stand. "Confines me..." he mumbled,, seeming to gasp for air. "Contorts me and controls me... but conceals and condemns me..."

"What the Hell is the lick saying?" spat Marie, shooting him a contemptuous glare.

"Those who drink from the blood of Malkav fall prey to his madness." George was staring at the ghoul now, his words hissing in the air. "Who knows if what he's saying is worth anything? He could just be babbling."

"As if _anything_ said by leeches were worth anything," sneered Marie. "How I hate those dirty, disgusting cattle."

"Stitch in time!" shouted Jack, bolting to his feet. His eyes were determined and fierce. "RUN!"

He sped down the cavern, and the Kindred grudgingly followed.

They stopped when the darkness became too deep for even their eyes to penetrate.

"Jack?" called Anton. Silence followed.

"Cat's got his tongue. Now get the fuck out." came a steely voice. The four stood incredibly still for a moment, until Elias stepped forward.

"Surrender the ghoul and the Primogen, and we will leave you in piece." he said quietly, his words calm and confident. Their unseen assailant laughed.

"Not gonna happen, pansy. Now why don't you just turn yourself around and walk out, while you still can?"

"Give us the goddamn Primogen before I personally tear the skin off of your face, infidel!" shrieked Marie. "You have ten seconds before I start. I will break bones in your body that you didn't even know you had, and I'll cut that insolent tongue out of your insolent mouth with my _fingernails_, and tear off your genitals and nail them to your forehead-"

"Bullshit, cunt. You can't even see me. And, consequently, that wagging tongue of yours just wasted your grace period. You're all dead, you fucking Cammies."

"KILL HIM NOW!" she screamed, her fists clenched at her sides. None of her companions moved. "Where's that bloody Nosferatu?"

"George?" called Anton timidly. There was a small period of silence, then...

"FUCK!" screamed the voice.

"Over there." answered the Ventrue.

"Elias?" called a weak, female voice. "No... No, stop, give me peace..."

"Shut up..." grunted the other voice, obviously injured. They heard blood hit the ground, followed by a heavy thump.

"Our host is out," came George's cheerful voice.

Anton sighed. "That's nice. I heard Abstract Addy's voice - did you see her? Or her ghoul, for that matter?"

"I'm still checking. This is a rather large room we've come across, but it looks like a dead end. They're here somewhere."

Marie was still fuming. "Where is that son of a bitch? I want his testicles pinned to my wall."

"Center of the room, Marie." offered George. "I smell blood - boatloads of it, and it's all hers. She's right in front of me, but she tightly bound. There's no chance of us undoing all of the chains and harnesses here. We'll have to take her back up as is. And I'm guessing this limp form next to her is Jack."

"Is he dead?" asked Marie hopefully.

"Still breathing. Barely. We'll have to drag both of them out of here." George picked up the Malkavian and walked back towards his group. "Somebody get the boy."

Anton shrugged and found Jack, lifting him over his shoulders.

"He was just knocked out, nothing serious," said Anton, looking Jackson over. Prince LaCroix nodded.

"Where's the Primogen?"

"We thought it best if you didn't see her," said Elias, fidgeting with his hands.

"What is that supposed to mean, Mr. Cutwell?" said the Prince through clenched teeth.

"She's not exactly a looker right now," said George with a wink. Sebastian's eyes widened.

"She's been hurt?"

Anton nodded. "Badly. Marie's with her now, feeding her all the blood packs we could buy from Reggie."

"I must know the details," Sebastian growled, a finality in his voice.

"She was bound in chains and chords when we found her. She had been stripped of her clothing, and her face was seriously torn. There were many other bruises, abrasions and slices elsewhere on her body. She looked as if she was brutally tortured." supplied Elias. The fact that the Prince was restraining a smirk did not escape him. "We did not learn who the perpetrator was, though he would not surrender her willingly."

"Was he taken care of?" urged LaCroix.

"He was incapacitated for the duration of our stay there..." mumbled Elias.

"So he's still alive." spat the Prince.

"Er." said Elias. He glanced at his two companions, hoping they would say something to save him from his Sire's impatience. He was answered with silence.

Prince LaCroix sighed, resting his head in his hands. Jack moaned, and slowly sat up, holding the back of his head.

"Ugh... Who am I?" he asked.

"Perfect." snapped the Prince. "As if we didn't have enough problems to deal with!"

"Is A safe? Is she okay?" he asked, in a seemingly random moment of clarity.

"She is being tended to,"' replied Elias with a nod. Jack smiled and fell back against the floor, once more unconscious.

"That was rather odd," George remarked, his arms folded across his chest.

"Once Abstract Addy is revived and well, I may question her for details of her captor and his location. Then we can find him and bring him into the city proper to administer justice." Prince LaCroix began shuffling some papers around on his desk. "I have heard all I needed to, for now."

The three nodded, and made their exits, Anton once again slinging Jack over his shoulder and carrying him out.

A/N: Whew. Jack didn't die! Point for him! I kind of forget about Elias in the later chapters, but I promise to bring him back in part twelve or so… I do like him, actually. He's just so… Ventrue-ey.


	7. Where the Darkest Waters Flow

PART THE SIXTH

Where the Darkest Waters Flow

Abstract Addy opened her eyes, adjusting to the soft light of Marie's manse. She heard the Regent's voice screaming out in the hall, and the quiet, submissive acquiescence of her ghoul. The sounds made her cringe.

"I told you to clean the mirrors as well, you incompetent little shit! Why are they not clean?!"

"I did not have time, your majesty, with all the other chores I've been assigned-"

"Don't make up excuses for your idiocy! I told you to do something, and you did not do it! You disobeyed me!"

Abstract Addy heard a slap, and a grunt.

"I tried, your majesty-"

"SHUT UP!"

Two more slaps, and most likely a kick.

Silence followed.

"Get up. Now. And clean. The GODDAMN. Mirrors."

"Y-yes, your majesty."

Heels clicked sharply against the white and black tiled floor, and Marie was once again in sight, licking the blood from her fingernails.

"I see you've roused."

Abstract Addy nodded, sitting up. She stared silently at the paintings and engravings on the wall, not knowing what to say. Luckily, the Romanian Toreador liked the sound of her own voice well enough.

"You've managed to fix that face of yours. Very good. You may not have noticed, but I've given you one of my dresses. Feel free to keep it - I'd never wear anything that touched a Malkavian." she began to turn, but stopped herself. "My butler can tend to any of your wishes, so call him if you need him." She turned down the hall, and shrieked, "ADAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAM!"

The werewolf rounded the corner with imperceptible speed, a bottle of Windex in one hand and a small towel in the other. Blood ran down from small fingernail-like scratches on his cheeks. "Your majesty?"

"See to our guest, hmm? What do you have in your hands?"

His jaw moved slightly before he spoke. "You asked me to clean the mirrors, your ma-"

"I SAID: SEE TO OUR GUEST!" screamed Marie, pointing a lithe finger at the Malkavian. Adam nodded and set the bottle and cloth on the end table. This evoked a glare from Marie, which he pretended not to notice. He kneeled beside the sofa.

"How may I serve you, Madame?" he asked, a worried edge in his voice.

She shot a strange glance at Marie, who was still trying to burn holes in Adam with her eyes, and then looked back at him. "Stay?" she asked. Marie seemed to fume slightly, but she turned and left, her dress billowing furiously behind her.

Adam relaxed slightly once she was gone.

"Are you alright? You didn't look too good when you first came in."

"I don't know. Where's my Jackson? Is he okay?" she asked, worried. "Is he safe?"

Adam shrugged. "I wouldn't know. Is there anything I can do for you?" he shot another nervous glance down the hall.

"How do you suffer her?" Abstract Addy said, her eyes sympathetic. Adam turned away.

"The Vinculum broke when Marie forced me to leave my son in New York. I... I fell in love with the sweetest, most kind-hearted girl I've ever met, and just thinking of her makes it possible to wake up each morning. Marie knows, but she won't say anything. It's the strangest-"

"She dies." said Abstract Addy. Adam looked at her in shock.

"... What?"

"She will die, though your love for her will not. And the other shall fall into ashes, and your hatred for her will live on as the most vivid memory. Where the darkest waters flow, the deepest feelings run, through her very veins, onto your lips." The Malkavian's eyes were misty now, glowing with an almost invisible violet hue.

"What are you talking about?" he asked, not understanding her cryptic words.

"The angel will die, her halo forever tarnished, she forever fallen, though your heart will beat and your veins to flow for her like the thousand blazing sunrises she will never see. And your mistress will crumble away like the dust." she closed her eyes, and Adam sat back.

"Angie is going to die?" he asked, his lips quivering. Silence answered him with a much more unnerving response than words could ever hope to make.

He leaned his back against the table, looking at the ceiling. He didn't want to believe her, but he knew from Jackson's stories that her 'Insight', as he called it, was infallibly accurate. He could only pray that he misunderstood it's meaning.

"Is there something you should be doing?" asked Marie, who was tapping her foot angrily against the tile in the hall.

"Seeing to our guest, your majesty?" he asked.

Marie's eyebrow twitched, causing the werewolf to flinch. She pulled her hand from behind her back, revealing a thin, black whip attached to a long ivory handle. Adam's eyes widened. "Your majesty, please-"

She cracked the whip out at him, the chord reaching across the room and slicing open his already wounded cheek. He let out a yell and fell to the floor, clutching the severed skin. She moved closer, still holding out the whip. "You insolent whelp-"

"I only did as you asked of me! Please don't strike me again!" though he writhed from the pain the whip caused, he would not allow tears to flow from his eyes in front of her. Tears would only invoke more punishment.

"I ASKED YOU TO CLEAN THE MIRRORS!" She spun the whip around, using the handle to strike his spine several times. She then stepped on him, digging the heel of her stiletto into his back. "And you did not do it! I've asked you TWICE now!"

"P-please, your majesty, I-I-I will d-do it imm-m-mediately!" he sputtered, coughing as he spoke.

"NO!" shrieked Marie, her fiery curls swinging over her bare shoulders. "You will NOT. You WILL be punished, however."

Her perfect red lips curled into a sadistic smile, one that sent chills down his spine. He brought Angie's face to the front of his mind - her soft brunette hair, her sparkling lake blue eyes and dour black lips...

"Rise." Marie commanded, removing her foot from his back. Adam struggled to his feet, calling on his Essence to seal the gash in his cheek. Slowly, skin stitched with skin until his flesh was smooth and unmarred. Marie brushed his cheek with her hand, making him clench his jaw. "Good boy. Now take off your coat, tie, vest, and shirt. I want to see your back." She folded her arms over the bust of her corset, and Adam reluctantly complied, revealing his smooth, muscular skin. One great scar ran diagonally from his shoulder blade the the small of his back, cutting a jagged line across his flesh.

"Come." she turned, and he followed her out of the foyer and down several halls, into a dimly lit and sparsely furnished room.

"Your majesty-" he began.

"Against the wall. Now. Press your nose against the wallpaper." His voice was even and smooth, betraying her intent. Adam did as she asked, dreading the pain that was sure to follow.

The first crack came, the chord cutting through his skin and hitting his spine. He cried out in agony, just in time for the whip to strike again. And again. And again. His mistress's rage and hatred were without end, without weakness. The whip was as relentless and as cutting as she was. And she never tired.

By the time she was satisfied, there was little of his back left. His flesh had been torn and whipped into ribbons, and blood oozed from the mass of wounds. His arms, chest and face glistened with sweat as he grunted from the pain. Already he was loosing his grip on consciousness, and reality was slowly fading away.

"An... Angie..." he mumbled, before hitting the ground. Marie stared at his form in silence, the vehemence gone from her eyes. A single line of crimson inched over her cheek.

"So it has come," she whispered. "I have lost you. To her." Her eyes narrowed, and she stared at the whip chord, debating whether or not to strangle the bastard in his sleep. She reluctantly decided against it and turned heel swiftly, almost floating out of the room.

________________________________________________________________________

A/N: Oh gee, more violence! (re-occurring theme here?) Poor Adam… He's such a despicably depressing werewolf… Next up: we meet the pre-vampire Angie and Jack when he's not under stress! Rules will be made, windows will be broken, and no unturned stone will be left… uh… you get the picture.


	8. Daylight Dealings

PART THE SEVENTH

Daylight Dealings

Jack leaned against the wall in the Last Round, sipping a rum and coke. He looked over at the bartender with a smile. "Hey, Raz. I juss thought of a funny joke."

"What, Jack?" he replied, flipping his pink and blonde hair out of his face.

"So this goth walks into a bar-"

He was cut off by the door opening. Consequently, a goth had just walked into the bar.

"Hey! You need to be twenty one to come in here." said Raz. The girl looked at the card in her hands, and glanced at Jack, raising an eyebrow.

"-And orders a Bloody Mary," slurred Jack.

"Jack isn't twenty one," she said quietly. Raz looked slightly embarrassed.

"He totally is!" retorted Jack. "Where is Jack, anyway?"

"Do you know this chick?" Raz asked. Jack squinted.

"Uh... Jack may or may not know this person..." he said slowly, eyeing the girl's dark make-up and Victorian style dress.

"Consuela told me to find you if I ever needed... assistance."

Jack straightened immediately, and Raz relaxed slightly. "If she's a customer of yours, she's welcome here," he said.

"What kinda 'assistance' are we talkin' about here?" he asked suspiciously.

"Weapons. Ammunition. Armor." she answered, moving closer.

"Consuela oughtta keep her fat mouth shut if she knows what's good for her," he growled. "Unless you got a fair amount of cash and a good amount of silence, Jack ain't sellin' you nothin'."

"Does he always talk in third person?" she asked the bartender, looking slightly concerned.

"Only when he thinks he's avoiding recognition. Which he's not."

"Okay, fine," sighed Jack. "Come out to the car if you want to make a purchase."

He led her to a sleek, black Mercedes Benz with tinted windows and a bumper sticker that read 'My other ride's your girlfriend'.

"Jackson Hill, dealer of the finest shiniest steel you'll ever see on this side of America. Bitch."

"Angie. Angie Darbanville." she said distastefully. It was the assholes like these that had made her life at school so miserable.

Jack pulled open the lid of the trunk, revealing a leather suitcase within. He opened it, and Angie gasped.

"Those are standard Desert Eagles - handguns. There's also a Colt revolver, bullets and rounds for each, serrated and smooth six inch switchblades, and the shotgun is in the back seat. It's a twelve-gauge. If you want somethin' else, you'll have to wait 'til tomorrow."

"How much are the handguns?" she asked evenly. Jack laughed.

"Probably more than what you've got in your wal-"

Angie handed him two hundred dollar bills, and he fell silent.

"Oh. I see." He pulled out one and loaded a single bullet into it, pointing it at the bar window. He clicked the safety off and pulled the trigger, firing it into the glass.

"ASSHOLE!" shouted Raz, who was shaking his fist out from the shattered window. Jack chuckled.

"THAT'S FOR CHARGING ME TWENTY BUCKS FOR A FUCKING RUM AND COKE!" he turned back to Angie. "I assume you know how to use it?" he asked slyly, dropping a box of bullets into her hand.

"I think I've got a pretty good idea." she said, taking the gun from him. "Thanks."

"And tell Consuela that if she ever wants anything from me again, she better shut it, right? Hey." He stopped her from turning away. "I want you to know I'm reliable, okay? Anything breaks down, or has any problems, you call me. My number's on the card. Any time. I work a 24-hour day."

Angie nodded curtly and left. Jack shut his trunk and headed back into the bar.

"You shot my fucking window, punk!" shouted Raz, his cheeks flushed red with anger.

"I'll pay for it, Raziyas. Don't get your panties all up in a bunch."

He eyed Jack with a seething glare, and folded his arms over his chest, his nose upturned. His pink and blonde hair fell smoothly over her crystal-blue eyes. "Yeah you will, jackass."

Jack handed him one of the bills Angie had given him, and sat back. "_Should've done something but I've done it enough... by the way my hands were shaking, rather waste some time with you..._" sang Jack wistfully.

"What?" grumbled Raz.

"You got someone who makes your life worth livin'?" Jack asked.

"Why were you singing _Blue and Yellow_?"

"You answer my question first."

Raz thought for a minute. He sighed, and started polishing a glass. "_I_ make my life worth living. There isn't a pussy in this world that controls that for me." He looked Jack dead in the eyes, not letting his gaze waver. Jack stared back with lazily half-closed eyelids.

"User."

An awkward silence followed, and Raz shrugged, staring out through his broken window. Jack rapped his fingers on the counter, biting his lip. He took a breath as if to say something, then stopped himself. He stared at his feet, then his gaze fell to the window. He looked back at Raz.

"Sorry, man. That was a shitty thing to say."

"Yeah," agreed Raz coldly. Jack shifted on the bar stool, swinging his feet awkwardly. "That bitch's changing you, Jack. You've gone kinda crazy. And you say the weirdest shit. Where's the Jack I knew?"

Jack glared at the floor. "She's not a bitch, Raz. Don't call her that."

"What's she done to you, man?" Raz reached out to grab his shoulder, but Jack smacked the hand away. Raz looked shocked, and Jack rose to leave.

"She hasn't done anything, asshole." He turned heel and walked out briskly. Raz shook his head as he watched him go.

"Yeah, you keep telling yourself that, punk. You keep telling yourself that."

Jack sat in the car for a few seconds before shoving the key into the ignition and screeching out of the parking lot. He turned his stereo on and twisted the volume down, rolling up the dark windows and slipping on a pair of mirrored sunglasses. It was job time.

He made his way through Downtown carefully, taking back streets and alleys. By the time he was in Hollywood, the sun had set and the lights of Sunset Boulevard were flashing in through his windows. He pulled up in front of a seedy-looking building with a bright sign in front of it and got out, walking up to the mirrored door with suitcase in hand.

It opened before he could grasp the handle, and painted fingernails grabbed his hair and pulled him inside.

Across the street, dark eyes watched carefully. Cigarette smoke curled up into the night air, and the leather jacket shined in the moonlight. A sniper rifle aimed straight at the door, and the figure adjusted the scope.

________________________________________________________________

A/N: So, a writer walks into a bar…. And gets the living crap beaten out of her. So then she goes to a hospital, and tries to tell a joke, and the doctor is so horribly insulted by the lack of humor that he over-prescribes her with medication and "accidentally" kills her. Then, her ghost haunts , plastering the site with her awful stories…


	9. Gunpowder, Hearts, and Other Explosive T

PART THE EIGHTH

Gunpowder, Hearts, and Other Explosive Things

"There's someone watching you outside, Jack," hissed the woman. They were inside a strip club, which was currently empty.

"I know," he said evenly. "I'm not here to talk to you. I'm here to talk to Adonis."

The woman sighed, letting go of his hair. "If this is a set-up..." she warned, heading towards the stairs in the back. Jack rolled his eyes and set the suitcase down, looking out the window and into the alley across the boulevard. The sniper made a signal with his hand, which Jack returned. The sniper dropped his gun.

"Thanks, Nico," he said under his breath, glad to have skilled backup in case things went sour. He didn't like dealing with vampires. He was fairly sure vampires didn't like dealing with him.

"Ah, little Jack," oozed Adonis's satin voice. He descended the stairs gracefully, as if muscles were moving under his perfect skin that weren't really there. His silver hair shone in the light, and shimmered like silk when it moved. His greek god face shone brightly with a smile that hid his fangs. He was staring at Jack as if he was debating if screwing him or eating him would be more entertaining. Jack stared at the vampire's shoes, refusing to meet his face. Looking at that gorgeous face meant Jack would be attracted to another man, and there was no way in _hell_ that he was going to let this pretty undead sonofabitch take his masculinity away from him.

"Count Adonis," he acknowledged uneasily, staring intently downwards. His neck was twitching, and the annoying voice in the back of his mind was screaming, _I want to look at him! I want to gawk at how gorgeous he is!_

Jack wouldn't give it the satisfaction. _Those are some nice shoes..._

"I assume you've brought what I've asked for, hmm?" _Those are some tight pants..._

"Er... Yeah." Jack was struggling. _Face... want... to see... sexy... face..._

"Would you mind giving it to me, then?" Something in the vampire's smooth voice was irritated. Jack found it difficult to move. _His pants are really tight..._

"Yes." said Jack.

"Yes?" asked Adonis, a little taken aback. "Why?"

"Um... I... I can't move?" Jack was speaking through clenched teeth, trying to keep just an ounce of self control. _I bet his lips are really soft..._ "Shut up!"

"Excuse me?" gasped Adonis.

"Wasn't... wasn't talking to you..." _I just want to run my fingers through his shiny hair..._ "It's. It's in the suitcase. Don't make me look at you."

Adonis paused for a moment, then laughed, the sound feeling like warm water running down Jack's spine. He cringed. "Ah, I did not realize! If my appearance makes you so uncomfortable, why did you agree to meet me face-to-face?" He was leaning down to open the suitcase, and Jack was practically sweating from the effort of looking away. _Just one peek at his ass, c'mon!_

Jack coughed nervously, his voice cracking. "Things are less... complicated... this way."

"Indeed," said Adonis, removing a container from the case. It's label read the contents as silver bullets. "These are genuine, I presume?"

"Er." said Jack, now transfixed by the vampire's legs. His eyes were traveling upwards.

"Jack?" he called hopefully, trying to redirect his attention to the conversation. "GUNS."

Jack's eyes cleared and he snapped away, the mention of his true love bringing him back to a safer state. He still avoided looking at the vampire, but at least now he was facing the opposite direction. He found talking to the wall much more pleasant.

"Yes, sir, sterling silver. Unfortunately, silver ain't the best metal for bullets, so you won't get the straightest shot outta these, but they'll for sure burn holes through any werewolves you might be shooting." _Guns_, he reminded himself. _Sleek uzis, with rapid fire, ooh yes, and Glocks with High-Explosive Incendiary rounds, you know, the kinds that set vampires on fire..._

"Excellent," purred Adonis, sounding genuinely pleased. He turned towards Jackson's back, setting the box of rounds on the bar and putting his hands on his hips. "So, what is the Giovanni ghoul doing across the street with the sniper rifle, boy?" His voice had lost it's velvet quality, instead becoming very cold. Very dead.

"Er," said Jack, no longer wanting to turn around. He stumbled forward until his nose was touching the wall. "Um."

Adonis pressed up against him, and Jack wanted to cry. He was certain this qualified as sexual harassment. "Go on, you can tell me." His lithe fingers were brushing against Jack's cheek, gently pulling the hair out of his eyes.

"Can you, um, please back off, please? Um." Sweat ran down Jack's bare chest, and Adonis's hands felt that, too. They felt a lot more than Jack wanted them to.

Adonis's soothing voice came back full force, like silk bed sheets against his skin, enveloping him in that smooth texture. "You weren't trying to destroy me, were you? You naughty little boy."

"No!" squealed Jack, tears running from his eyes. Adonis's tongue ran over his neck, his sculpted nose pressing against his flesh, drawing out the scent of the hot blood pumping unusually fast through the ghoul's jugular. "Safety," he hissed, feeling Adonis press him harder against the wall. "It's not safe to go alone."

Adonis backed away, Jack still clinging desperately to the wall. He wanted to run, now. He wanted to run back to his apartment and vomit, and cry. Adonis had only just sidled against his back, just ran his hands over his chest. He felt as if he'd been brutally raped. He slid to the floor, huddled into a ball, shaking and sobbing.

"You thought I would hurt you?" the vampire asked, voice hesitant and inquisitive.

"You're a vampire," breathed Jack, the air never quite filling up his lungs. His heart was pounding way too fast, his breath coming in shallow gasps. His tears seemed much hotter than they should have been.

Adonis looked out the window and saw the sniper, aiming the cross-hair perfectly over his heart. "Your friend is a careful shot," he observed. "How are you acquainted with the Giovanni family?"

Jack steadied his breathing, to the point where he could speak somewhat evenly. He was still scared. No. Embarrassed, more than anything. He felt violated. "I work in contraband and weapons. The Giovanni think I'm a useful asset."

"The Giovanni are vampires."

"Not all of 'em. And They aren't Cammies, like you." Jack regretted saying that.

"Ah. You disagree with the Camarilla."

Jack stayed silent, almost crawling to get his suitcase. He snapped it shut, still avoiding the vampire's gaze, and used the wall to help him stand. He started to head towards the door.

"Send the Giovanni my regards," said Adonis, stopping Jack in his tracks. Jack paused for a moment.

"They don't like you," he said quietly.

"I know."

Jack walked back out of the club, his legs not as sturdy as he wanted them to be. Nico ran out to meet him, rifle in hand.

"You okay, Jack? I was gettin' worried, there." His hair was greased back in a slick way, his face looking very Mediterranean. He helped the ghoul stand.

"I hate that bastard!" he swore. "I'd kill him if I could!"

"What's stopping you?" Nico asked, getting in the passenger's side of the car.

"Rules," mumbled Jack, sliding into the driver's seat.

"You were never one to follow rules," he pointed out flatly.

"Yeah," sighed Jack. "But that's the trouble with rules, Nico. They have a way of coming back and slapping you in the face when you least expect them to."

"What the hell was that fruitcake doing to you in there, anyway? Looked like you two were gettin' it on." Nico lit a cigarette and took a deep drag. Jack stayed silent. "Hey, if you swing that way, cool, I didn't mean to-"

"I'm not fucking gay, alright?" growled Jack, screeching onto the strip and driving with a vengeance. "He's a sick bastard who was tryin' to freak me out."

"Judgin' by how pale your face is, it looks like he did a damn fine job of it."

"Shut the fuck up, Giovanni," snarled Jack. He took a deep, shaking breath, inhaling some of the smoke by accident. He coughed.

"I could roll down the window if you want," Nico offered.

"Fuck you and your windows."

"Are you doin' okay?"

Jack's face contorted as he drove, streetlights streaming past them. He didn't answer for a while.

"I'll be fine once I see A again."

"When was the last time you tapped her?" Jack shrugged.

"Last night. She feeds me every night."

"Spoiled," chuckled the Giovanni. "My aunt only lets me tap her when I do shit for her. So, yeah, about once a week."

"Is your aunt a good lay?"

"Yeah," sighed Nico. "But she fucks me way less than she feeds me."

Jack smiled at this. "I bet if A wasn't with that sonofabitch werewolf, she'd fuck me as much as I wanted."

"You just keep thinking that, Jack," chuckled Nico. "You just keep thinking that."

"I bet!" whined Jack, pulling into a narrow side street in the Hills. "I mean, the way she looks at me sometimes... And Trent's totally jealous of me."

"Is that the shifter's name?" asked Nico absentmindedly. "I always thought werewolves had bad ass names like 'He Who Walks In Shadows' or 'Darkstalker' or some shit like that."

"Adam's a werewolf. And his name's Adam."

"Yeah, but Adam's bad ass enough to not need a bad ass name. You heard he did to that hunter who was after Marie?"

"No," said Jack, driving up the winding driveway to the Giovanni mansion. "What'd he do?"

"He tore out his ribcage with his fuckin' teeth! It was like a fuckin' horror movie!"

Jack stopped the car and stared hard at the Giovanni.

"Adam." he said.

"Yeah."

"Adam. You mean the Adam we eat lunch with? At the diner?"

"Yeah."

"The 'My-Life-Is-So-Miserable-I'm-In-Love-With-A-Girl-Half-My-Age' Adam?"

"Yeah."

Jack narrowed his eyes. "Bullshit. Adam's a pussy. No way he'd have the guts to tear out someone's ribcage."

"He's only a pussy 'cuz Marie's whipping him. But I'm not shittin' you, man. He seriously chomped the ribcage out of some stupid vampire hunter. He was in, like, wolf-man form or somethin'."

"'S called 'Gauru' form, Grease," said Jack mildly. "Now get the fuck out of my car, you dirty Italian, before you leave an oil slick on my leather interior."

Nico chuckled and opened the car door, sliding out and slamming it shut. As Jack backed out, Nico flipped him off, tossing his cigarette into the giant fountain his family's mansion sported in the driveway.

Jack drove the L.A. streets peacefully, hoping that Abstract Addy wouldn't be with Trent. He didn't like it when other guys were in there apartment. Call it a territorial thing, but hell, _he_ paid the rent.

By the time he reached the complex, it was nearing midnight. He was a little late getting back, but he blamed Adonis for that entirely. He was anxious to get to his room.

He was anxious to get fed.

He was bringing home four hundred bucks today. "She better be fuckin' happy," Jack grumbled, walking into the lobby. The desk attendant winked at him.

"Hey, handsome!"

"Hi Cherry," he said flatly, heading towards the elevator.

"Your girlfriend left two hours ago with the punk guy, whatever his name is-"

"Trent." said Jack, gritting his teeth. "And she's not my girlfriend."

"Oh."

"See you 'round," he mumbled, escaping quickly into the elevator. Sleeping with Cherry had definitely been a mistake. He'd been a little desperate, sure, but now she seemed to think that he was in to her. _Women_, he thought to himself, shaking his head. He pressed the floor five button. _They're so fucking stupid._

He waited solemnly for his floor, and got out unceremoniously, heading right. The hall stretched on before him, but his room wasn't too far. Some idiot was having very loud sex in the shower next door, and Jack was thinking of all the possible things he could do to ruin the loser's night. He pulled his key out of his pocket and unlocked the door, letting himself inside the studio. Shutting the door with his foot, he hit the light switch and plopped down on the couch, turning on the playstation and grabbing the controller. He was near the end of Castlevania: Symphony of the Night, and it was getting pretty good. He loaded his save and went on slicing zombies in Dracula's castle, eventually becoming oblivious to Mr. Obnoxiously Loud Shower Sex next door.

He almost didn't hear the door open. Abstract Addy crashed through the door laughing, followed by a muscular man in a white tank top and tight black jeans. His hair was bleached blonde and layered, and his eyes were a clear blue. He grabbed her around the waist and kissed her passionately, apparently unaware of Jack's presence. Irked, and definitely jealous, Jack focused his attention back to Richter Belmont and his vampire-slaying whip of doom. He mashed buttons with a vengeance.

"Let's get it on, babe," growled Trent, his voice husky. Jack turned the volume up on the TV.

"Not tonight, dearest," the Malkavian giggled, pushing him back out the door. Jack's hands were twitching, making the zombies on the screen harder to kill than they should have been.

"C'mon, babe, you know you want to-"

"Later." She shut the door and locked it, sliding against the wood. Jack ignored her. "Hi, Jack!"

Jack stared intently at the screen, his face a scowl. Trent was knocking on the door.

"Go away!" she shouted at the door. Eventually, the knocking stopped, and Abstract Addy sat on the couch next to her ghoul. "I said, 'Hi, Ja-"

"I heard you," he growled. Richter Belmont had just burst into Dracula's room, ready to confront the Lord of Darkness once and for all. Jack skipped the dialogue and went straight to the fight.

"What are you playing?" asked Abstract Addy innocently.

"Castlevania: Symphony of Night."

"What's it about?"

Jack never took his eyes off the screen. "Jesus, you fucking prick! Fireballs aren't fair! Goddamn sonofabitch piece of shit cunt rag shit face!"

Abstract Addy sighed, adjusting herself so that she was sitting on her feet. "What is it about?" she repeated.

"There's this family - the Belmonts, and they're vampire hunters, and Dracula and his castle, called 'Castlevania', appears every century. I'm the blue guy with the whip - that's Richter Belmont, and he's kind of a fag, GOD DAMN YOU, YOU SONOFABITCH! But anyways, you're supposed to go kill Dracula. And Dracula has this half-vampire son called Alucard who hates him and who's even more of a fag than Richter, and you play him, too."

"It's set in Romania?"

"Yeah. That's where you came from, right?"

Abstract Addy nodded as Richter Belmont hurled his poorly animated whip at the poorly animated Dracula. She bit her lip to keep from laughing as Dracula threw poorly animated fireballs at the poorly animated Richter, and poorly animated Richter died a poorly animated death.

"FUCK!" screamed Jack, throwing the controller at the carpet. "Dracula's such a fucking grue!"

"You were eaten by him?" questioned the Malkavian, wondering why the Zork reference came up.

"A, can you be honest with me for a second?" he asked, turning towards her.

"I'm always honest with you, Jack! You're my dearest friend!"

Jack cringed slightly at the last word, but continued. "Um..." He could feel blood rising up to his face, making his cheeks blush. He stared at the carpet as he spoke. "Do... Do you love Trent?"

"Of course I do," she said, a little confused. Jack bit his lip and nodded. There was a long silence.

"I got us four hundred, A." He pulled out his wallet and removed the money from it, putting the bills on the coffee table. "I actually made five hundred, but I... I shot Raz's window, so I had to pay for it. Sorry." He looked back up at her face, waiting for some kind of approval. She stared blankly at the money. "A?"

Her mismatched eyes looked glassy. Jack poked her on the shoulder, which evoked no response. "A? We ran out of Jack Daniel's. Well, I guess _I_ ran out of Jack Daniel's, but I gotta get some more."

Still no response.

Jack sighed, getting up and turning off the TV and Playstation. He figured he could go one night without her vitae... it's not like he used any of it that day. He sulked off to the closet, grabbing a pair of flannel pajama pants and headed into the bathroom to change. When he came back out into the main space, Abstract Addy was still staring at the coffee table.

"A? A, I'm gonna need to sleep there," he said quietly. "Can you move, please?"

Silence. Jack gave an exasperated moan and picked her up off the couch, struggling, to carry her to the bedroom. He dropped her on the bed and started back out, but paused in the doorway. "You alright, A?" he asked. She looked up at him, her eyes clearing somewhat, and nodded slowly. "I'm gonna shut the door, alright?"

"Wait..." she half-whispered, motioning him over to her. He obliged cautiously, kneeling by the bedside.

"What's up?"

She bit deep into her wrist, willing her blood to flow. Vampiric vitae oozed up over her skin, and Jack's eyes widened. He could feel himself salivate, his muscles tensing. Immediately, he grabbed her arm and closed his lips over the wound, drinking in the succulent taste, feeling her run throughout him like fire, her very essence igniting his soul. He felt his heart beat like a drum, her blood oozing through his system and wearing him like a glove. He felt her pain at that moment, but also her burning love. He felt her shudder in his grip, felt her sigh as blood ran down the corner of his mouth. The skin knitted below his tongue, and he anxiously licked every last drop, not wanting to waste any of her precious vitae. He felt lightheaded, like he'd just had an orgasm while roaringly drunk, and rocked back on his knees, feeling that cool warmth heat up his chest and stream through his body. He stared into her mismatched eyes, and thought, _this is love. This is what love feels like._ He would kill for her. Hell, he'd die for her. He'd do _anything_ for her.

He reached out. He wanted to touch her, wanted to wrap his arms around her and pull her into a tight embrace and never let go.

Then he remembered Trent.

His eyes burned a little as they started to well up with tears, and he looked away, not wanting to cry in front of his Domitor. Instead, he rose to his feet and stumbled out of the bedroom, closing the door behind him.

He fell onto the couch and stared at the ceiling, wishing that Trent were dead. He felt jealousy and spite rise up in his like bile, leaving an acidic taste on his tongue. What made Trent so special? He didn't know her like _he_ did, didn't know the taste of her, the feel of her soul rimming the insides of his skin and warming him from the inside out. He didn't share the blood bond that Jack and she shared. It ran deeper than love. It _had_ to.

Didn't it?

Jack tried to push the self-doubt away, but it crashed in on him like a tidal wave, swallowing him in despair. He didn't _deserve_ A. He owed her his life - he owed her his very fucking soul.

Trent didn't owe her anything.

Was that why? Jack was a debt. Trent was a gift.

A/N: Ooh! Anti-vamp drama (Adonis is totally bisexual, for those of you who haven't guessed), fun with Castlevania, and jealousy! Next up: the Prince calls on Jack's "little debt"…


	10. I'm Sebastian LaCroix, Destroyer of Egos

PART THE NINTH

I'm Sebastian LaCroix, The Destroyer of Egos!

Jack's cellphone vibrated furiously on the coffee table, rousing Jack from his sixty minute slumber. Groggily, he reached out a hand and slammed it on the wood, trying to fin the device. After a few moments, his fingers close around it, and he flipped it open, bringing it clumsily to his face.

"Juh... Jack speaking," he groaned, not quite awake.

"Good. I want you at the Ventrue tower immediately," came the Prince's crisp English voice.

"Whatawhat?" mumbled Jack.

"This is the Prince, Jack. You owe me your service, if you recall?"

"Oh." said Jack, coming around. "Do I?" "You swore fealty to me," the Prince sighed, irritated. "I won't waste time. Come the the tower now. This is a matter of some importance." The Price hung up, and Jack tossed the phone onto the floor, dragging himself off the couch. He groped the wall until he found the key rack near the kitchenette, and grabbed his car keys. Stumbling out the door and locking it behind him, he made his way to the elevator.

He drove up to the tower, only half-aware of his surroundings. The Prince was a fascist asshole, granted, but he didn't have much of a choice now. It was do, or probably die. Frankly, he didn't want to be dying. He'd been close once, and it wasn't a pleasant experience. It involved a gang of pissed off junkies and baseball bats.

Vampires were more creative than junkies.

He ambled into the building, yawning as he reached the desk. "LaCroix wants to see me," he came out with, his words encumbered by exhaustion. The security guard gave him a strange look, but pressed a button, shaking his head. Jack shuffled to the elevator, lazily hitting the PH button.

He had nodded off in the elevator, but the *ding!* had returned him to the world, slightly annoyed. He walked into LaCroix's penthouse and approached the desk.

The Prince stared at Jackson's pants.

"What are you wearing?" he asked, looking as if he was holding back a snicker. Jack looked down and reddened slightly, remembering that he had not changed out of his pajamas. The were a pastel blue, with yellow rubber duckies on them.

"Uh... You woke me up..." he said quietly, his cheeks burning. LaCroix closed his eyes and sighed, nodding his head slowly.

"Indeed," sneered the Prince. "I require a service from you-"

"Look, I gotta be back home by four to say goodnight, or good day, or whatever-" interrupted Jack. This elicited a fierce glare from the Ventrue, silencing him immediately.

"You will perform the service I ask of you, and complete it, no matter how long it takes. You do not have a choice in the matter, Jack. I now own you."

The last statement made Jack cringe slightly, but he nodded. "What do you want me to do?"

Prince LaCroix sat back in his cushy chair, pressing a pen to his lips and chuckling. Jack did not like the sound of his laugh. "I have heard of your introduction to the Count of Hollywood," he said smugly. A shiver ran down Jack's spine, and the red returned to his cheeks. What do you say to a Prince about things like that?

"I sold him silver bullets," he said in a clipped tone.

"Oh?" said the Prince, amused. "I heard you gave him much more than that."

"I didn't screw him, okay? He frickin' violated me!" Jack clamped a hand over his mouth, seeing the Prince's eyebrow raise.

"I meant nothing by it, kine. Only that you provided my Count some entertainment."

"Wasn't exactly 'entertaining' to me, Prince," growled Jack.

LaCroix waived him to silence with a self-important air. "That is besides the point. I want you to deliver this to him," he explained, handing a folder to him. It felt heavy with paper.

"I am NOT going into that place again!" protested Jack.

"You will do as I say, slave!" snarled the Prince, his silver eyes boring into Jack's.

"I will do as you say," he echoed hollowly, turning and walking back out to the elevator. The Prince sat back again, a smirk on his face.

"Much better," he remarked, returning to his paperwork.

Jack drove numbly back into the strip club's parking lot, dreading every step he took towards the door. It was still empty - they were 'closed' on Sundays. He opened the door gingerly, to find Adonis pressed against some woman against the wall, his face buried in her neck. She was moaning, her eyes rolling into the back of her head. He was getting messy, and blood was staining the woman's white blouse. Jack turned away in disgust. He'd been around vampires, sure, but he'd never watched them feed. Abstract Addy made it a point to feed as far away from Jack as possible, and he really didn't spend that much time with anyone else. This... this was just icky.

Adonis was making strange sounds, like he was getting off. The woman looked like she was about to climax. Jack felt like hurling. He turned towards the wall, feeling the bile rise in his throat. Adonis was sucking the blood out of that woman's neck. And she thought it was sexing her up.

Out it came. Jack hurled onto the wall, alcohol and Count Choculas burning on the way up, leaving that foul, acidic taste in his mouth... And blood. He was losing some of his domitor's blood. It had made it's own special pool among the brownish-tan liquid spewing out of his lips.

Adonis's head shot up, and the woman dropped the the ground unconscious, her breath coming in shallow gasps. He smiled.

"Nice pants," he sneered. Jack ignored him. "You retched on my wall, kine," His voice was playing tricks on his senses again. Jack didn't turn around, instead staring at his own vomit, debating wether or not to lick the blood back out of the puddle. His breath came too unevenly for him to be able to speak right away.

"I... I got a delivery for you... from... from LaCroix..." he finally gasped, his voice hoarse. He held up the folder, trying not to turn and look at the vampire. It was lifted out of his hands and thumbed through lightly.

"I had not realized you worked for the Prince," said Adonis quietly. "You should have enlightened me of that fact earlier."

"What, so you wouldn't have copped a fucking feel?" growled Jack, trying hard not to vomit again. He took a couple ragged breaths. "It's a temporary job."

"I disapprove of your attitude towards me, little Jack," breathed Adonis. Jack was acutely aware of those sickeningly long moments were Adonis closed the distance between them. He was afraid that if he leaned back, he'd suffocate the vampire in his hair. _Oh, right, _he thought gingerly. _Vampires didn't suffocate. Shame._

"Tell it to the Prince," rasped Jack. Adonis stopped dead in his tracks. _So maybe there were some perks to working for a fascist asshole_, he thought smugly. Adonis stepped back a couple steps. "What, big bad vampire like you scared of Sebastian LaCroix?"

"I'd watch how you speak of the Prince, kine," he hissed. "You have finished your task. Leave."

Jack was all too eager to oblige, almost running out into the lot and back to his car. His heart almost stopped when he realized it wasn't there.

He scanned the parking lot, crestfallen. How the hell was he going to get back home now? And quite a few of his guns were in that car. Not to mention it was a Benz.

"Motherfucking cocksuckers," he mumbled sadly. He sighed, even more depressed, when he realized his cellphone was on his apartment floor.

It was turning out to be a very, very bad night.

Meanwhile, in Santa Monica, Abstract Addy answered Jack's phone.

"Bram Stoker Pizza Service, how may I help you?" she asked cheerfully.

"This _is_ Jackson Hill's cellphone, isn't it?" huffed an irritated voice on the other side. The accent immediately identified the caller as the Prince.

"It certainly is!" she said, joy still radiating in her voice. "But he's quite gone at the moment... I can take a message!"

"Who is this?" demanded the Prince.

"I'll give you three guesses..." she said slyly, enjoying the irritation she inspired in the Ventrue. The two had a long history together... most of it was her finding little and obscure ways of annoying the hell out of him.

"I don't have time for this!" he cried, exasperated. "Where is Jackson?"

"No clue," hummed Abstract Addy.

There was an angry 'UGH!' from the other side, and a click. She giggled merrily, and closed the phone, placing it carefully upside down on the floor where she had found it. She was about to turn away when it started to vibrate again. This time, when she checked the number flashing on the front and didn't recognize it. She opened it tentatively.

"Santa Monica Society of Sucking, how may I be of service?"

"A. I'm calling from a pay phone."

"Jack?" her voice had lost it's impish glee, now reverting to worry. "Are you okay?"

"Someone stole my car."

"The Prince just called your cell," she sighed, shaking her head. Only Jack would let things like this happen to him. "He sounded really insistent. What did you do?"

There was a long pause.

"You know when you went missing?"

"Yes?" she urged, obviously concerned.

"I asked the Prince for help. I, uh... I agreed to be his do-boy."

"You what?" she whispered. "Why didn't you tell me? No, don't answer that now. How did your car get stolen?"

There was a long, depressed sigh. "I was running an errand for the asshole, and I came out to find the Benz gone. I'm in Hollywood, A."

"We don't have another car," she observed.

"I don't have money for a taxi," he replied dryly.

"You have a special way of getting yourself into these kinds of messes, Jack," she sighed, sounding weary. "What do you want me to do?"

"Look, the Giovanni ain't gonna pick up if I'm calling from a pay phone, 'kay? They're too cautious for that. Will you call them from my cell and ask Nico to come and get me?" His voice was hushed, embarrassed. Abstract Addy raised her eyebrow.

"Fine."

"Thanks."

"Bye."

*Click*

Abstract Addy scrolled down the contacts list, laughing at some of the names Jack had saved.

"Fascist Twinkie?" she giggled. "Ooh, that one's good. WHISKEY. Why is it capitalized?"

She focused back to the task and scrolled back to 'Giovanni'.

There were six, and read as follows:

"Giovanni Big Banana. Giovanni Grease. Giovanni Guns. Giovanni Recover. Giovanni Silky. Giovanni Zombies." She observed each for a couple minutes, trying to decipher which one was Nico. Big Banana was certainly Augusts, patron of the family in Los Angeles. Grease? All of the men in that family had greasy hair, so that didn't help her much. Guns would be Valentino. She remembered the cocky Italian boy boasting about how he hand-assembled each entirely on his own. Recover? She had no clue. Silky would be Silky, daughter, childe and lover of Augustus and the diplomat of the family. Zombies? One of the family's many necromancers, no doubt. That left the choice settled between 'Recover' and 'Grease'. She tried 'Recover' first.

It rang for a while before picking up. "Ciao?" a rough, male voice answered.

"Is Nico there?" she asked hopefully. There was a long pause.

"Nico?" the voice asked. "Nico... Nico upstairs." Obviously not a fan of English.

"Wrong number." *Click*

She tried 'Grease'.

"What do you want _now_, Jack?" answered Nico's voice, irritated.

"It's Abstract Addy."

"Oh." There was a pause. "This was Jack's phone," he said, cautiously.

"Yes. He left it here, and got his car stolen. He needs to get back home, and he doesn't have money to procure a taxi. Can you help him?"

"Um..." said Nico, sounding as if her were scratching his head. "Maybe. Where is he?"

"In Hollywood somewhere."

Nico scoffed. "_That's _helpful."

"It's all he told me. He was doing something for the Prince..." she stopped mid-sentence, seemingly listening to a nonexistent voice. "At a _strip club_? What would the Prince want him to do at a strip club?! He lied to us, didn't he?"

"Strip club?" asked Nico. "Adonis's club?"

"Oh," she said quietly. "That makes a little more sense, I suppose."

"I'll get going, then," he sighed. "Before the idiot does something even more stupid."

Jack sat on the curb, staring forlornly down the street. He wanted his car back. He had some magazines in that car that he'd rather not have random car thieves see. Interesting magazines, to be exact, that involved women and guns. Not necessarily in a violent way.

He heaved a sigh, wondering if his domitor had actually called like he'd asked, or if she'd simply forgot. He began to have extremely violent thoughts about Trent and a machete. A silver machete.

His thoughts were interrupted by a white mustang convertible almost running over him. Jack looked up, got a whiff of cigarette smoke, and smiled, rising to his feet.

"Nico-" he started.

"Jack, this is fuckin' ridiculous," he interrupted. "Get in the fuckin' car."

Jack obliged quickly, jumping over the door and into the seat. Nico had two cigarettes on his lips. He was apparently smoking both of them at once. "I wonder if vitae prevents lung cancer?' he mused.

"Whatever," hissed Nico, throwing the car into drive. "Sylvia'd just give me new lungs anyways."

"Is Sylvia's a necromancer?" Jack asked, wondering exactly how much fun Nico's aunt had with corpses.

"All the chicks in the family can do some," he replied casually, "But Sylvia and Tina are the best."

"Do they ever fuck the zombies?" Jack asked, fascinated. Nico answered him with a silent, disturbingly wide smirk. Jack swallowed. "Woah... You're family's got more kinks than the Marquis de Sade."

"You actually read books?" asked Nico, impressed.

"Just the dirty ones," shrugged Jack. "I wish I had a family full of incestual necrophiliacs."

"No, Jack, trust me. You really don't." Nico turned onto the freeway. "You goin' back home?"

"Actually, no," admitted Jack. "I need to go back to Downtown."

"_Back _to Downtown?" questioned Nico. "Downtown is yuppie central. What the hell were you doin' there?"

Jack's cheeks reddened slightly. "Don't tell your family alright?"

Nico looked at him strangely. "If it's somethin' you gotta hide from the family, I'm not sure you oughtta tell me-"

"It's just temporary, alright?" Jack said quickly, waving his hands. "The Prince has got me running stupid errands for him."

Nico's cigarettes dropped out of his mouth and landed on his lap, going out instantly. "You're working for the Prince?" he asked, each word slow and pronounced.

"I don't exactly have his best interest in mind, if that's what you mean." Jack pouted. "I'm not a fucking Cammy. I just made a stupid deal."

"And now Prince FuckYoutroix has you licking his shoes."

"Yeah."

Nico turned off the freeway and into Downtown, heading for the Ventrue tower. He heaved a sigh. "How can you be so fucking clever, and still be so unbelievably stupid?"

"Yeah, A says things like that, too," frowned Jack.

"No, I got it, I got it. You're a teenager."

Jack gaped at him. "That's never been a problem before, you... you... _old man_!" he stammered, not quite sure how to insult him.

"I'm twenty seven, kid," he growled.

"Going on sixty six," Jack added dryly.

"Yeah, which makes me your superior, bitch, so shut the fuck up." With that, the argument ended.

There was a long silence, and finally, Nico spoke. "How'd you get ghouled, anyways? You never told me."

"I told you I worked the black market way before I met A, didn't I?" said Jack sheepishly.

"Yeah. You ran that street gang-"

"The Foxes," answered Jack.

"Stupid name, but yeah, go on."

"I had sold some tweakers a fix. They followed me down the alley, practically beat me to death, and took my wallet. They bashed my face in with bats, and left me to die there. A came, fed me vitae, taught me how to heal. I didn't know anything about vamps back then, except what I got out of _Dracula_ and _30 Days of Night_, so I thought I was in love. I begged her to let me follow her home, and after a bit of an argument, she let me. I started paying for the apartment, she fed me her blood and told me about all this supernatural shit. So here I am, a month later. I can tell you, I ain't getting smashed around by druggies anymore," he said with a wink. "But what about you? How does a Giovanni tick?"

Nico seemed to ponder this for a moment, but looked up when he saw their destination looming before them. "How 'bout I tell you at the diner tomorrow, eh? Right now, you got a dictator to deal with."

Jack looked a little disappointed, but nodded, climbing back out over the door and onto the sidewalk. "Are you gonna take me back home?" he asked hopefully. Nico rolled his eyes.

"Yeah, fine. I'll just wait here for your sorry ass."

Jack wandered back up to the penthouse, opening the door tentatively. He was answered with a pacing, very angry Prince.

"Where were you? It's nearly four o'clock!"

"Eh... My car got jacked. Pardon the expression."

"Nevermind," he huffed. "Did you finish your task?"

"Yeah." Jack stood a little straighter, but he wasn't sure why. "Can I go home now?"

"No." The Prince's voice was cold, almost petulant. Jack suppressed a giggle, imagining the Ventrue as a whiney fifteen year old getting slapped by his mother for back talking. _Man_, he thought smugly, _raising him had to have been a fucking nightmare_.

"Um... No?" asked Jack, pressing for information. "I did what you asked, Prince LaCroix."

"It wasn't in a timely fashion," huffed the vampire, his arms crossed.

"I'm SORRY that some jackass stole my car, okay?! It wasn't my fault!"

"Your excuses do not concern me!" the Prince screamed back, silencing the ghoul. Jack stared at his bare feet, and observed the bubbles on his pajamas. Little rubber duckies and bubbles. It probably detracted from his credibility.

"Look, I don't know if you bloodsuckers ever get tired, but I've only gotten one hour of sleep in the past two and a half days, so if you could let me go home now, I'd be REALLY appreciative, okay?" He was being stupid, he knew. He didn't even resist when the Prince's hand rocketed across his face, sending him crashing against the hardwood floor. He didn't even get up.

"Don't talk back to me, worm!' he shrieked, his usually immaculate orange-blonde hair sticking out in strands. "You are my servant, and will follow my orders without question!"

Jack rolled over onto his stomach, his face stinging. He felt as if his jaw had been knocked out of place. "Yeah, yeah, I get it! I surrender! Just don't hit me again!" He was trying to roll onto his knees, at least, but gravity was feeling especially effective on him right now, and he found he didn't have the arm strength to pull himself off the floor. There was a long silence between them, Jack feeling the blood pool out of his mouth and on to the floor. He lifted his head, watching the red drops swim in saliva. "Ugh, I'm bleeding," he said, maybe a little too loudly. The Prince's head snapped up, and Jack covered his mouth defensively.

"You may go," he said quietly, turning towards the window.

"I can?" asked Jack, confused. "But you just-"

"You've been dismissed," snarled the Prince. Jack didn't waste any time scrambling to his feet and leaving the penthouse.

A/N: Poor Jack, entertainment to his friends… car resource for the world… Next up: LOTS OF DIALOGUE!


	11. You Mean, Like, PMS?

PART THE TENTH

You Mean, Like, PMS?

Jack rolled over on the couch, falling clumsily to the floor. He woke up with a shout, flailing for a few seconds before he realized that he was back in his apartment. He shook his head and rubbed his eyes, glancing at the clock. Noon.

The diner!

Jack sprinted to the closet, squirming out of his pajamas into into a pair of black cargo pants with way more zippers than was necessary. He writhed into a pair of sad, red converse and snatched the keys off of the rack, running out the door and locking it. It wasn't until he reached the parking lot that he remembered he didn't have a car.

"Oh, shit," he sighed, looking down the boardwalk out West and Venice. He could walk, the diner wasn't far, but that meant he would be walking.

"If the world was easy, it would be easy," he sneered, mimicking Abstract Addy. He walked angrily down the sidewalk, hands in his pockets.

He sulked into the diner, spotting Nico and pulling up a chair. Adam was sitting across from them, fidgeting with his menu uncertainly. Nico was smoking, as usual.

"Hey," he said.

"Good afternoon," greeted Adam nervously. Nico flicked his cigarette, the ashes landing on the table.

"Tell him what happened," said Nico. Adam shifted, a look of pain crossing his eyes. Jack looked at him strangely.

"You okay, Adam?" he asked, concerned.

"Yes," he said, almost too quickly. Nico looked at him. "Well, no, actually..."

"What'd the bitch queen do this time?" Jack sighed, picking up a menu. Adam glared at the table.

"Tomorrow is the full moon," he said quietly. "And Marie hasn't fed me since the last full moon."

"Which means tomorrow will mark a month since she's fed him," explained Nico.

"Shit," said Jack, dropping the menu. "And isn't the full moon...?"

"My auspice," sighed Adam, picking at the table. "If I lose control and shift, she won't feed me. She says it's gauche. I... I don't know if I can hold it back this time."

"You did it two weeks ago, didn't you?" encouraged Jack. "Lucy was going to hammer you, and you held out anyways! You can resist it again, can't you?"

"It gets harder... the longer I go without shape shifting, the harder it is to not shift. I've... I've been getting... angry. I feel the Rage boiling up inside of me, and if I see my auspice moon, I don't think I'll be able to keep it in." He slumped forward slightly.

"What? You mean, like, PMS?" asked Jack. Nico shot him an acidic glare, and he shut up.

"She... She hurt me last night, pretty badly. I almost changed in front of her. She had me on the table, and her fingernails were digging into my back, when my skin started to stretch. I think she screamed, and I stopped. She said she'd kill me if I changed when she didn't want me to. She said she'd lock me in the basement to rot. I think she was scared."

"So? What if you changed during the day? Get it out of your system?" Jack refrained from asking if Marie had ever forced him to sleep with her. Adam would probably start crying.

"I'd still see the full moon tonight. Changing now wouldn't help." He sounded utterly and hopelessly depressed. "And if she found out..."

"I see, I see," said Jack. Suddenly, a thought occurred to him. "Say, what if you got really plastered, and passed out? You can't shift if your unconscious!"

"What if I'm an angry drunk?" whined Adam, holding his face in his hands. "I haven't been intoxicated since the seventies, and, frankly, I wasn't a thrall back then. Something could go terribly wrong! Besides, Marie keeps no alcohol in the house."

"How do you live?" asked Jack. Nico chuckled.

"I'd say invest in some tranquilizers. I could net you a couple syringes if you want - with your BMI, you'd probably need more than one shot."

"Tranquilizers?" asked Adam, horrified.

"They'd take you straight out," mused Jack. "You'd be out cold the entire night!"

"I'll get Don to hook you up with some before you leave," offered Nico. Before Adam could respond, a waitress bounced cheerily up to their table.

"Are you boys ready to order?" she asked in an overly happy voice.

"I'll have an espresso," sighed Nico, handing his menu to her.

"The same," said Adam with a sigh.

"Get me a scotch and soda," mumbled Jack, pushing the menu away. The waitress gave him a puzzled look.

"I'm sorry, sir, but we can't serve alcohol to minors-"

Jack gave an irritated sigh and thumbed through his wallet, showing her his expertly forged I.D. She let out a small gasp.

"I'm so sorry sir! I didn't realize... It's just, you look like you're seventeen-"

Nico chuckled.

"Just shut up, and get me my drink," he growled. The waitress hurried away, obviously offended. Nico burst into laughter.

"Hey, Jack! The waitress said you look seventeen!" "I _am_ seventeen," he grumbled. "You were gonna tell me about your family," he said slyly. Nico's laughter died immediately, and he took a deep drag off of his cigarette.

"Yeah. I was."

"Jack, you shouldn't drink so much alcohol-" interjected Adam.

"You ain't my father!" shouted Jack back at him. "Come to think of it, I don't have one..."

"You know, Jack, just because you _don't know_ who your father is doesn't mean you don't have one," sighed Nico.

"I'm just looking out for you," said Adam defensively. He was ignored.

"Doesn't really matter," said Jack with a grin. "It's not like I have any family reunions planned."

They both laughed at this.

Adam looked concerned. "Why not?"

Jack stared at him for a long time. Nico raised his eyebrow.

"I don't think he knows," said Nico quietly.

"I could've sworn I told you," Jack said, his eyes narrowing. "Didn't I?"

Adam shook his head cluelessly.

"My mother was an abusive whore who's idea of a good time was to throw iron skillets at me," said Jack, clenching his teeth. "Or other heavy, painful things. When she wasn't high out of her fucking mind."

"She was a junkie," added Nico. "She traded sex for heroin."

"I left when I was nine. Joined a street gang. Never saw her again."

Adam stared at him in surprise. "I'm sorry... I never knew."

"Whatever," Jack spat, his voice acidly bitter. "Monica could be dead for all I care. She wasn't much of a mother."

The waitress ended the conversation, delivering the drinks and scurrying off. There was a long silence. Jack was the first to take his drink.

"Your family, Grease," he reminded.

"Right. So, the Giovanni aren't allowed to do anything outside the family - marry, embrace, ghoul - none of that stuff. It all stays in the mansion. Once a year there's a big reunion, and Giovanni from all over the states come to Los Angeles. The head Kindred all secretly meet, and decide who's worthy of the Embrace. Note that most of the humans in our family don't know this - so it's just the Kindred and the few ghouls who're in on it. They pick a few lucky family members and turn 'em, then have this month-long period where they teach 'em all the stuff they need to know, not just about vampirism, but the basics of necromancy."

"What about ghouls?" asked Jack. "What're your family's rules for those?"

"Generally, a Giovanni gets ghouled if they're being considered for the Embrace, but aren't necessarily going to get it. That way, they stay young, and know a little bit about the Kindred from the get-go. And they can still make babies." He winked at this, and Adam crinkled his nose.

"Makes sense," Jack shrugged. "You were gonna get turned?"

"I might still," replied Nico, sipping his espresso. "Makes no difference to me, either way. I'm sure my life wouldn't change much."

"You'd be dead," pointed out Adam.

"Well, yeah, but not really. I mean, I'd still be working for the family. Probably in the same way I do now. I'd just get a little more respect, I wouldn't have to feed from Sylvia, and I'd be harder to kill. But I don't mind staying human, either."

"I'd never want to be a vampire," decided Jack, leaning back. "I mean, I've taken blood from A, but that's totally different from eating some stranger. It just seems kind of... gross. Especially how people get off on it, too. It's like, here's some monster sucking the blood out of your veins, and you're getting hot off it. There's something really wrong with that."

"They ain't monsters, Jack," said Nico quietly. Adam stayed silent.

"Whatever," he said, taking a deep drink from his scotch. "I just don't want to be one."

They were interrupted again, but not by the waitress.

A short, wiry girl with straight black hair and thin lips walked up to their table. She wore a green and black striped sweater that was comically oversized, and baggy black jeans that hid her thin legs.

"What're you doing here, Consuela?" asked Jack suspiciously. She looked down at the floor and shifted.

"I... I'm giving your car back."

Jack stared at her for a moment.

"You. Stole my car?" He blinked, not quite believing her.

"Well, yeah," she said, looking back up at him. "I was in kind of a tight spot."

"You." he said, frowning. "You stole my car?"

"I just said I did, dumbass," she replied, her tone acidic and irritated. "You taught me how to hot-wire vehicles, remember? It's okay, though, I took it into a shop and got the wires repaired, so it's good as new. I just wanted to tell you that it's in the parking lot outside."

Jack stared at her in disbelief as she walked back out of the diner.

"She stole your car," chuckled Nico. "That midget goth chick stole your car?"

"She's a changeling," said Jack, still frowning.

"I know her - she's one of Angie's friends," said Adam unhelpfully. "Or... Angie's friend."

"Singular?" Nico smirked.

"Uh... Angie doesn't have a lot of friends," he replied shyly.

"That bitch stole my car!" The shock had worn off, leaving anger in it's wake. Now Jack was pissed.

"It would be more accurate to say she borrowed it, since she _did_ give it back," Adam said meekly, trying to diffuse the situation.

Jack slammed his hands on the table as he stood, and stormed out of the diner.

"What an ass," Nico said, shaking his head. "He left us the bill."

A/N: I agree with Nico… Jack IS an ass… Next up: Jack/Trent rivalry!


	12. Testosterone Poisoning

PART THE ELEVENTH

Testosterone Poisoning

Jack had given up on Castlevania for the time being, and was instead playing Red Faction. Guns on Mars were way more interesting than some stupid vampires in Romania, anyways.

The clock read eight thirty when Jack heard a knocking at the door. He glanced around the apartment to make sure none of his guns were out in the open, and, satisfied, answered it. The smile fell off of his face.

"She ain't awake yet," he said darkly. Trent was wearing a pair of white skinny jeans and an Iron Maiden t-shirt, with a studded belt hanging just below his hips. He towered over Jack, being slightly over six feet tall and incredibly muscular. Still, hatred can do wonderful things to a seventeen year old ego.

"What the fuck are you doing here, punk?" growled Trent, his face a scowl.

"I live here, jackass," he shot back. "What's your excuse?"

Trent punched Jack squarely in the gut, sending him to the floor and knocking the wind out of him. The werewolf pressed a skate shoe clad foot on Jack's cheek, pressing just enough for it to hurt."I'll give you ten seconds to come up with a reason for me not to stomp your brains out. One..."

"I pay for this apartment," wheezed Jack. The foot left his face. "If you kill me, A would hate you." He rose unsteadily to his feet. "I'm close with the local mafia. If you kill me, they'll find you, and trust me, it won't be pleasant." He rubbed his face, staring Trent straight in the eyes. "And lastly, A's a vampire, which I'm sure you've already figured out by now. Killing me would spark an investigation by the police, and do you really want this city's law enforcement to know about your girlfriend's little problem?"

Trent stared at him, wondering how an anorexic-looking teenager could possibly have the guts to stand up to him. Also, the things he was saying were actually making sense. He didn't like it. "Listen, kid," he said menacingly.

"No, YOU listen." Jack took a couple steps forward, until he was uncomfortably close. "You don't own this place. I do. You can't just burst in here and punch me around, got it?"

"Looks like I just did, bitch," Trent snarled, giving him a shove backwards. Something in Jack's eyes snapped. His switchblade seemingly came out of nowhere, flicking open faster that Trent could see. Jack flew at him, knife forward. The steel blade buried itself in Trent's chest, and he grunted, blood seeping through his shirt. He tossed Jack to the ground, ripping the blade out of him and throwing it to the side. "You're DEAD, motherfucker!" Trent screamed, charging towards him. "You're DEAD! You just don't know it yet!" Jack scrambled behind the couch, grabbing the revolver hidden beneath it. He spun the chamber and cocked the hammer, squeezing the trigger and sending a bullet into Trent's left arm. He screamed "FUCK!" and fell to his knees, gripping the new wound, trying to dig the metal out with his fingers.

"What the hell is going on?"

Jack turned to see Abstract Addy half-hiding behind the door, a look of fear on her soft face. Jack didn't lower his gun. "Your motherfucking dumbass boyfriend started it," he growled, his voice still hoarse. Abstract Addy gasped, rushing to Trent's side.

"You shot him!" she screamed.

"He stabbed me, too," Trent grunted. Abstract Addy glared at Jack. Jack glared back.

"He threatened to kill me!"

"This kid's a fucking liar!"

"Stop it, both of you!" Abstract Addy tore the bullet out of his arm, and he flinched. "Why can't you two just get along?"

Jack gave Trent his coldest gaze as he dropped the revolver.

"I don't get along with fucking psychos, babe," hissed Trent, his skin reforming where the bullet had earned him a disapproving glare from Abstract Addy, so Jack remained silent. "Anyways, I came to ask if you wanted to see the Genitorturers tonight. I got us tickets."

Jack stared at her, face completely blank. She glanced at him, then back to Trent.

"I can't tonight," she said quietly.

"Look, if it's about the kid, I'm sorry, alright?"

"I can't tonight," she repeated. Trent glared at Jack with a burning hatred.

"Other plans?" he asked through grinding teeth, eyes never leaving Jack.

"Why does she have to explain herself to you?" Jack asked slowly, each word quiet and punctuated with a deadly seriousness. The two glared at eachother long enough to burn out their retinas, and Abstract Addy stepped between them.

"If I go, will you promise never to fight with Jack again?" she pleaded, her tone desperate. Trent thought about this for a moment.

"Fine."

Abstract Addy looked back at Jack, who shrugged. "It's your unlife," he said quietly. "I can't tell you how to unlive it, as much as I hate the bastard."

Trent opened his mouth to respond, but closed it immediately. He instead grabbed her by the waist and dragged her into the hall without another word, slamming the door shut behind him. Jack sat back on the couch. He wanted to kill someone. He _really_ wanted to kill someone.

Instead, he flipped open his cellphone and scrolled down the contacts, until he reached 'Easy Fuck 4'. He called.

It rang quite a few times before anyone answered.

"This is Candy," came a tentative voice.

"Hey sweet-cakes, it's Jack," he greeted smoothly, his voice betraying none of his anger.

"Jack!" the girl squealed. "You haven't called me in, like, three weeks! How are you?"

"Awesome, actually," he lied. "I was wondering if you wanted to come up to my place? You know, to catch up? It's been a while."

"I'd love to! When do you want me to come over?" Her voice sounded delighted, even. Jack held back a snicker.

"Any time's fine, baby," he oozed.

"Okay, sure! I'll head over now!"

Jack hung up and sighed, leaning back. Candy was about as intelligent as a rock. He had to believe that some small part of every girl told them that when a guy calls them up to his apartment, it meant he wanted a good fuck, and not a long conversation. I mean, they _had_ to know, didn't they? Or were they really just that stupid?

When the knock finally came at the door, Jack slid off the couch to answer it.

Candy was a thin girl almost as tall as Jack, with a decent rack and a pixie-like face. Her hair was a strawberry blonde, and her tan face sported a bounty of freckles. She was dressed in a very short jean skirt and a pink tank top, with two inch plastic pumps.

Jack kissed her firmly on the lips before inviting her inside, tasting her cherry lip gloss and pressing her body tight against his. She shut the door with her foot as she came inside, but stopped when she saw the small puddle of blood on the carpet.

"Ohmigod, what happened?" she breathed.

"An accident with steaks," he contrived with a smile. "I didn't get a chance to clean it up. How are you?" They sat down on the couch, Jack's arm around her waist.

"Oh, I've been okay," she said wistfully. "I've missed you."

Jack grinned, stroking the hair out of her face. "You know how my life gets," he conceded, almost sounding apologetic. Almost, but not really.

"Busy," she sighed. "I know." She kissed him again, but the kiss was chaste, and Jack was left feeling slightly cheated. "I was beginning to think there was someone else." She said this with a pout, and Jack didn't miss a beat.

"No one but you, babe," he whispered. Of course, that would make her No One But You Number Four (there were six in all), but she didn't need to know that.

"Aw, you're so sweet," she oozed, leaning in to kiss him again. Jack leaned forward, and when their lips met, he pushed her onto her back, one hand in her hair, one hand on her waist. He eased her lips open and slid his tongue between her teeth, teasing hers. She responded by pushing back and biting on his lip, hard enough to leave small indents on his skin. She let go and he lifted his head, laughing.

"So that's how you wanna play, huh?" he said huskily, nuzzling into her neck. He bit it softly, running his tongue over the soft skin, and she giggled. He left a trail of kisses from there to the beginning of her jaw, getting back to her lips with an agonizingly slow movement. His hands slid to the hem of her tank top, where he began to work it off, slowly rolling it over her full breasts and over her head. He unhooked her bra with one hand and began to work at the skirt with the other, tossing the lacy lingerie carelessly to the floor. She pulled his cargo pants off, her painted nails running softly and tantalizingly over the skin of his legs.

He kissed her as he eased into her, starting out slow. She let out a small gasp as he entered, her hands gripping his arms and her nails digging into his skin. He pumped against her in small movements at first, then began to speed up as she moaned louder and louder. She was moaning his name, breathing it against his ear, digging her fingernails into her back and running long scratches all the way down his spine. He shuddered at the pain, but let it seep through his skin, once again catching her cherry lips. Hers were trembling, and he pressed against hem strongly enough to still them, her hot, uneven breath escaping into and around his mouth. His tongue pressed against hers, sliding against it and coming back to meet it, and he was vaguely aware that they were both sweating, their skin becoming slick in some places and damp in others. His hands slid down to her hips as he thrust into her, and he arched his back, his lips traveling down the front of her neck and to her rising and falling chest. She was climaxing just as he came, and they relaxed into eachother, Jack pulling out slowly, trying not to leave too much of a trail. His breathing was only slightly more even than hers, though they were both out of breath. He slumped against her, his hands finding hers and curling around them.

Okay, so Candy was as dumb as a rock, but she was a damn fine lay.

Her fingers intertwined with his, and she smiled. The heady smell of sweat and sex had overpowered whatever perfume she was wearing. He couldn't even smell it anymore.

"Jack?" she asked, her voice breathy and low.

"Yes, babe?" he sighed, his cheek resting comfortably against hers.

"Do you love me?"

Jack had to fight against rolling his eyes. Why was it that women always had to ask these stupid questions _right_ _after_ the sex? Why couldn't they ask these thing _before_, or the next week? Or never?

"Of coarse I do," he lied. He shifted his weight slightly.

Candy giggled, pulling him closer to her. "I love you, too, Jack," she murmured. Suddenly, she sat up, running a finger through her hair. "Can I take a shower?"

"Only if I get to take it with you," he answered wearily. She shot him a sly smile and swung her legs over the cushion, dragging him to his feet. "You mean, right now?"

"Yes, silly!" she giggled, leading him into the bathroom. They stumbled into the shower and Jack turned the water on, his muscles tensing as the cold seeped through his nerves. Candy yelled out in surprise, pressing against his back.

"It's f-freezing!" she shivered, her skin trembling against his. The water was just barely starting to warm up.

"It takes a few seconds for the heat to kick in," he explained, turning to face her and pinning her against the tiled wall. "But..." he grinned mischievously, "you can settle for _my_ body heat while we wait."

Abstract Addy held fast to Trent's strong hand as they pushed their way out of the warehouse. Once they were in open air, he laughed, leaning against the brick wall. Abstract Addy fell against him, laughing as well. He wrapped his arms around her, holding her tight.

"That was their best show yet," he breathed, running his fingers through her curling hair.

"It was so much fun!" she beamed, resting her head against his chest. "I'm glad I could make it." His heartbeat was faster than usual, and she could feel the blood pumping in and out of it. She could also tell where most of it was going, but she had an unspoken agreement with Trent - she pretended not to notice it, and he didn't get embarrassed. Being good meant Trent pretending not to notice it as well, but that rarely ever happened.

"Why does that little bitch stay with you, anyway?"

The question was a little sudden, and Abstract Addy was silent for a moment before answering.

"We have an arrangement," she said finally, choosing her words carefully.

"Arrangement?" he echoed, his voice lowering slightly. She could tell by his pulse that he was getting angry. That, and his body temperature was rising.

"It's complicated," she said quietly. "I don't want to discuss it."

"Why?" Trent shot defensively. "What are you hiding from me?"

Abstract Addy sighed. "You wouldn't understand. It's a vampire thing."

"Who says I wouldn't understand? I tell you about my situation - You can't just not tell me about yours!" His voice was growing rougher by the minute.

"You aren't thinking clearly," she pointed out, her voice as calm and soothing as she could make it. "Calm yourself."

"Explain," he growled, gritting his teeth.

"My explanation would fall upon deaf ears. You would not understand." She backed away from the werewolf, who slammed her back against him, squeezing tight enough for it to hurt.

"Start talking."

She stared at him for a moment, unable to comprehend his sudden change in attitude. He had never tried to harm her before.

"I saved his life. In return, he provides me a safe place to exist."

"It's more than that," hissed Trent. "You're keeping something from me!"

"He's addicted to my blood!" she spat out finally, crimson tears welling up in her eyes. "Okay? He drinks my blood!" She was practically screaming now. The look on Trent's face was pure incomprehension. It was as if he had simply not heard what she said, or as if she was speaking in a language he did not understand. "Read. These. Lips." she spoke slowly, punctuating every word as blood tears ran over her cheeks. "Jack. Is. A. Blood. Junkie... I. Am. His. Dealer."

Trent's eyes widened in revulsion, and he pushed her away, backing up. "You sick fuck," he whispered, but mostly out of fear. He turned heel and ran, leaving the vampire utterly and undeniably alone.

A/N: Waoh! Lemons! Sorry, that was kind of irresistible… So. Bad juju with Jack/Abstract Addy/Trent love triangle… Next up: Cutwell drama, fun with werewolves, and, of coarse, Jack being ridiculously irrational (when is he not?)


End file.
